


I Want To Lie With Your Bones Forever

by sonicsora



Series: Tie The Knot [2]
Category: Brütal Legend
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gen, Gothic, The Drowning Doom, Traditions, Undead, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, lesbian wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 14:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19211734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicsora/pseuds/sonicsora
Summary: The Drowning Doom are the kind who loves pomp and circumstance with each wedding. Ophelia is more than happy to play officiant for two lovely undead brides who want to get married.Even in death, love can be found, even in madness love is here to stay.





	I Want To Lie With Your Bones Forever

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write a 'how do the drowning doom get married' fic waaay sooner, but got derailed. So enjoy this softness.

The low hum of the organ fills the foggy air as those in attendance rise from their makeshift seats. Some of the undead are unable to rise but clap politely from where they’re settled. Two rat guts stand at either side at the end of the rows of seats. A rat wearing a bow around her neck with a basket in her mouth waits by the men, gnawing somewhat at the woven handle. 

The music swells as a wooden carriage led by ghostly horses comes to a stop a few feet away from the rows of chairs. One of the two Rat Gut’s steps forward to unroll some white fabric out under the steps of the carriage’s door. He walks through the aisle, ensuring the white fabric stops appropriately at the altar. 

The other Rat Gut opens the door for the Brides’. “Careful, Bridget, Anne. Long step down, ladies.” He states kindly as he helps both women out one at a time. 

Bridget brushes out her rumpled skirts carefully, before reaching out to adjust her future wife’s as well with a gentle tut. Anne laughs lowly, leaning in flick aside Bridget’s veil to steal a quick kiss, giggling softly as one Rat Gut shoos them forward. He hands the pair their umbrella wordlessly. Amongst quiet giggling, the umbrella is opened. 

The rat takes that as her cue to scuttle down the aisle, shaking loose flower petals across the middle row between the seats from her basket. The cooing from the undead only bolsters the little beast as it spreads dead flowers in its wake. The rat loses the basket with the next shake as she scuttles to the altar in the front. 

The altar itself is a simple aged and stained marble podium with two wooden awnings standing behind the podium itself. The podium has a wine bottle and chalice settled atop it as alongside an old leather-bound book. The awnings over the altar were layered with delicate white lace, dried dead flowers and loose bones. Ophelia stands to the side of the awning, wearing a dark lacy gown as she watches the brides. 

As the next refrain of the song starts the two brides stride together down the aisle hand in hand under one shared umbrella. The two women giggle softly together, all smiles under their veils. Bats swoop in to pick up their dress trails, holding the fabric up and off of the dirt. 

Other umbrellas open amongst the crowd as the rain clouds over the two women’s head grow larger and merge together. Electricity crackles from the combination of their clouds as rain patters down on the fabric of the umbrellas. The rat scuttled away from the altar to run around their feet, wiggling around their ankles excitedly before Bridget scooped her pet up and placed it on her shoulder. “Now, now, patience, Gracie.” She strokes the top of the rats head as they come to a stop in front of the altar. Once the two are at the altar the crowd settles back into their seats under their umbrellas. The music drops off into the familiar silence of the sea. 

Ophelia steps forward to stand behind the podium, resting her hands against the smooth marble surface. “Today, we come together to celebrate Anne and Bridget. We the Doom welcome their grief, the hurt, their love to mingle, to merge into something greater. We ask Aetulia to sing them a song of sorrow and love this night.” 

She smiles at the two women before her, “Before we drink of the sea, of the wine of Aetulia, these women must speak of each other.” 

Bridget stands a little taller, nearly bumping her head against the top of the umbrella. “Anne, oh Anne, my rose, my dried petals amongst the thorns.” She grabs onto the other woman’s hands, a little desperate and lovelorn. Her rat somehow manages to not be knocked off of her shoulder in the dramatic movement. “You give me reasons to hold onto this bleak existence, to breath in the smoggy air every morn, to know we are all dust one day. You bring light into this darkness, a shining star in the clouded sky. You are my everything in one body, in one lost soul.” Bridget brought Anne’s knuckles up to her lips, exposed bone brushing against flaking dead skin. 

Anne giggles softly, if she could blush properly she would. “Oh, Bridget!” She reaches out to flick aside the other woman’s veil again, drawing her in for a kiss. Thunder cracks loudly overhead as the kiss deepens. Bridget grasps desperately at the other woman, the two sigh into a kiss. In their distraction, they nearly drop their shared umbrella. 

Ophelia gave a polite cough, trying not to laugh as the two spring apart like teenagers being caught. The crowd titters fondly behind them. Anne adjusts her veil with a soft laugh. “Forgive us, My Queen.” 

Ophelia waves a hand dismissively, “Love is love, Anne, do you have anything to add?” 

“Yes!” She pulls her veil back after a moment, one bright eye shining with happy tears whilst the empty socket full of flowers seemed to bloom. “Bridget, my darling, my delight. You’ve brought me nothing but joy since we’ve met. Your kindness, your humor, your sweet words when the world seemed its darkest. You are the moon in my sky, the shining beacon that brings the tides of love and kindness I so desperately crave. Thank you for becoming my bride, for becoming my wife.” 

The two women smile at each other, still, a bit lost in love as Ophelia chuckles softly. She uncaps the wine bottle, pouring the drink into the old golden chalice. “With this drink, you two shall be bound together until your bodies are no more.” She holds out the chalice for the two, Bridget gladly accepts it. She takes the first sip before she passes the chalice to her wife who gladly takes a sip as well. The chalice is settled back on the podium as Ophelia claps her hands. 

“And now, friends shall read you words and songs of love to further commemorate this day.” She stepped aside as one or two people stand up and walk away from their seats to approach the podium as well. The two women were serenaded and read a variety of poems. Polite and eager applause followed each performance before the friend who finished drifted back to their proper seat. 

Ophelia strode back to her place behind the podium, opening the book lain there. Her voice carries over the crowd as people settle into their seats. “In the winds, in the waters, in the very earth itself, we hear Aetulia’s grief. She calls out to us with her every fiber. We are of madness and loss.” She looks to the couple, smiling warmly. “Do you embrace this madness for each other?” 

Both women spoke at once, eager and happy, “Yes!” “Of course!” The undead wedding party laughed softly behind the two brides, making the two women laugh themselves. 

“Serenade each other’s pain, be each other’s cure in this infected world. Await each other upon your graves.” Ophelia continues easily, “When you are nothing but bones, you shall always be woven together under Aetulia’s touch. Bound from spirt to bone, you are together, always.” 

Ophelia closes the book on the old chipped podium. “Remember her cries, remember your own.” The crowd falls quiet, all taking a moment to remember Aetulia, to thank her for life anew, life risen from waters. The two brides loop their arms together wordlessly clinging to one another. 

Ophelia speaks again once the moment draws to a close. “Together, you are Bridget and Anne Delighté, celebrate your love, celebrate your madness until you can’t any further.” She claps her hands loudly and that makes the wedding party rise. Bridget and Anne turn to face the crowd, curtsying together. Once they stand they stride down the aisle back to the carriage they arrived in. 

Applause rings behind them as the music swells up again, only slightly muffling the Organist’s soft crying. Ophelia laughs softly, walking into the rising crowd, greeting each of them kindly and easily as the two newlyweds drift back to their carriage. Ghostly horses form at the front once again, glittering in the low light breaking through the fog before galloping off into the fog bank in the distance.


End file.
